


The Colour Red

by DalishFox79



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalishFox79/pseuds/DalishFox79
Summary: This is the story of a Red Jenny and a Noble Lady who struggle with their feelings for one another amidst a world full of societal power struggles and prejudice. O/C characters with a couple of familiar faces thrown in. Set in the time between Origins and Inquisition.





	1. Aidrian

The clouds slowly rolled, silent across the sky, obscuring the moon momentarily before her light was free to shine upon the earth once more. In the darkness, a small figure slipped over the estate walls, unseen. Keeping to the shadows, it skirted around the side of the grounds until it reached the gardens in the back, and hid amongst the shrubbery.

“ _Come and join us as we play, in cracks and corners while we may.”_

The shadowed figure, an elven woman, looked carefully around, listening intently before moving further into the garden. She stopped once more at the edge of the shrubbery closest to the mansion, peering out through the bushes, her keen green eyes taking in the scene before her.

Two of the estate guards had an elven man tied to the post of a gazebo. The elf’s face was bloodied and swollen; his eyes blackened, and nose clearly broken. The guards sneered at him, occasionally hitting him while they spoke.

“Just you wait, you knife-eared piece of shit,” spat one guard, digging a hand in the elf’s hair and slamming his head hard into the post behind him. “Once a mage gets here and heals the lord, he’ll bring your bitch down here and finish what he started, take her right here in front of you.”

“And if she’s a good little slut,” chimed in the other, punching the elven man in the stomach, “and screams and cries, he might just let us have a go. He’s done it before. Then the lord will pay you back for attacking him. And he won’t make it quick.” The guard drew his eyes down the elf’s body and back up. “Maybe he’ll even show you what a _real_ man can do.”

The elven woman in the shadows shivered. She closed her eyes as a memory flashed through her mind... **_A movement wakes her, someone shaking her shoulder. Her mother hovered over her and her sisters as they lay in their bed. She has a welt on her cheek and scratch on her neck._** _**“Quickly, girls,” she whispers, grabbing a sack and stuffing clothes in it and what food was in the room. “There is no time. Your father is dead and we need to flee. Not a sound now.” She ushers them out the door, not even letting them change from their nightwear.**_

**_They can hear shouts from the halls nearby but are too afraid to make sense of them, apart from pieces._ **

**_“Find her!”_ **

**_“Check the servant’s quarters.”_ **

**_“Get a healer here now!”_ **

She shook the memory from her mind. She needed to remain focused. Another elven woman slipped through the shadows and to her side, one whose jaw and neck were covered in burn scars. “Aidrian, we located the girl,” the burned elf whispered. “She’s on the second floor as we were told. Searlas and Josette are in place. We are ready.”

Aidrian, the elven woman, nodded, her green eyes fixed steadily on the guards tormenting the restrained elf. “Then let’s do this,” she whispered. “Quickly and quietly if we can. And I want to kill the bastard myself.” The other elf nodded and slipped into the shadows. Aidrian waited a second more before doing the same in the opposite direction. The Shadow rhyme, which she learned during her training, continued to repeat in her head.

“ _You need not fear us, child of night, if you turn to us, away from light.”_

She moved silently, to the shrubbery adorning the gazebo. The guards were too intent on torturing their prey...they were making it easy. Aidrian counted in her head, removing a flask from her belt. Taking aim, she threw it in the air above the guard’s heads. An arrow flew from the opposite direction and shattered the flask. Aidrian was already moving as smoke filled the air. She slipped up noiselessly behind one of the guards, slitting his throat before he could make a sound. The only noise from the other guard was the sound of his body falling to the ground. The smoke began to clear revealing two bodies, one with a slit throat and the other with an arrow through his neck.

She moved to the bound elf, cutting his bindings and catching him as he fell forward. She pulled a vial from her belt and poured healing potion in his mouth. The burned elf had joined them, and slipped her arm around the elven man for support.

“Can you walk?” Aidrian asked him.

He drew a deep breath and lifted his head. She could see clarity in his eyes. “I can now,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “But...Ellina...my fiancée...”

“We’ll get her, I promise,” Aidrian assured him. She indicated to her partner, “Della will help you get out of here and to the rendezvous point. You need to go now.”

“Come,” said Della, guiding the man through the garden. Aidrian watched them for a moment before she slipped into the mansion.

“ _Hide and seek, seek and hide. No one hears your silent stride.”_

She slipped through the corridors, stopping every so often to hide if a guard passed by, and made her way to the second story. She paused in the shadows of a hall containing two guards, who stood at attention before a door. Her eyes focused on the shadows passed the guards and she motioned a countdown, drawing each finger to her palm. When she reached the last finger, she stepped out from the shadows.

The guards turned toward her. “Who the hell are you?” demanded one.

The only response was the sound of something being swung sharply through the air from behind them, the noise becoming muffled before it stopped. Then the head of one of the guards slid sickeningly from his neck. As the other looked at his beheaded companion, he opened his mouth to call the alarm. Aidrian threw her dagger and pierced his neck, preventing him from making more than a gurgling noise as he slumped to the floor.

After watching the guard fall and retrieving her dagger, Aidrian looked to the friend that now stood across from her. “Nice work, Josette,” she smirked.

Josette, a petite human woman, bowed with a flourish. “I aim to impress,” she said in her thick, Orlesian accent.

“And you always do,” Aidrian chuckled as she bent to pick the lock on the door. She pushed it open cautiously and peered into the room.

A young elven woman rose from her spot by the window. Her eyes were red with weeping and she held her torn shirt in place. “Who are you?” she asked in a shaking voice.

“We are friends,” Aidrian said in gentle tones, attempting to soothe her. “We rescued your fiancé, Dolin, and he is safe. Josette, here,” indicating to her companion, “will take you to him. You must go quickly and quietly; do exactly as she says.” The young woman only nodded. Her eyes were fearful but she cast a grateful glance at Aidrian before following Josette out the door and down the hall.

Aidrian followed after them but went in the opposite direction once in the hall. She made her way until she came to an ornate door. At its foot lay a very large, and very dead, guard. A slender but well built human man stood over the body. There was no wound or blood on the body but its head was at an odd angle.

Aidrian looked from the body to the man standing over it. She quirked a brow at him. “What?” the man shrugged. “You were taking too long.”

Aidrian shook her head and smiled. “Let’s get this over with, Searlas,” she said, sobering and becoming focused. She placed her hand on the door handle and with a quick turn, they were in the room.

A man sat in a chair in front of the fire. He didn’t turn to see who entered, only groaning before he said, “It’s about time! Hurry up and heal me, mage! I have some filthy knife-ears to deal with.”

Aidrian’s blood burned. How she despised him and all his kind! Nobles thought the world belonged to them, and people were to be used and thrown away like worthless trash. That made them less than even that in Aidrian’s opinion, and she had made it her mission long ago to bring justice to these...creatures.

Aidrian nodded to Searlas and he moved behind the chair. Quick as a flash he wrapped an arm around the man’s throat, pinning him against the back of the chair, while he covered the man’s mouth with his other hand. Aidrian walked around to stand in front of them.

“Lord Arsenault,” Aidrian said, her voice flat, void of emotion. “It’s time you pay for your crimes. The Maker loves all creation, and you have treated some of His children with cruelty and malice. You’ve taken lives of innocents and now will pay with your own.” She pulled her daggers from her belt.

Arsenault tried to cry out, thrashing against his captor’s arms, but Searlas held firm. His strength was one of his skills, and he used it well. Aidrian moved closer. Arsenault tried to kick her, and she drove her dagger into his leg. She ignored his scream, stepping hard on his other foot to keep the leg from moving.

“I’m going to make this quicker than you deserve, you filth,” Aidrian sneered. She could no longer keep the emotion from her voice. She drove a dagger into the man’s groin. He screamed in pain and squirmed again. “That’s for all the people you violated and raped.” She pulled her other dagger from the man’s leg. She looked at Searlas, meeting his eyes as they communicated silently. “And this is for the lives you took.” As she thrust her blade forward, Searlas moved his arm, and Aidrian’s dagger pierced Arsenault’s throat, silencing him forever.

Aidrian wiped her blades on the lord’s shirt. She burned with anger. She wished she could have made him suffer more; it would never be enough. But they had no time; they needed to leave quickly. She nodded to Searlas, who nodded in return before they both slipped back out the door and into the shadows once more.

“ _Enfold you in our arms, will we. And in our mute embrace you’re free.”_

Aidrian and Searlas fled the manor, back through the gardens and over the walls around the estate. Through the shadows of the streets separating the rich estates of Val Royeaux they made their way, until they entered into neighbourhoods of the common folk. Slipping into an alleyway behind a market square they found their friends, the rescued elves, and one other; a human mage who was in the process of healing the battered elven man, Dolin.

“How is he, Naurice?” Aidrian asked the mage, eyeing the injured man carefully. She didn’t really need to ask as Dolin looked a great deal better then when she saw him last.

“Better now, of course,” the mage said matter-of-factly. “I’ve examined both and done all I can for them. They are ready to go.”

“Go?” the Dolan asked. “Where are we going?”

“You’re going to need to leave Orlias,” Aidrian explained. “I suggest fleeing to Ferelden. We’ve actually booked you passage on a ship that will leave shortly to take you across the sea, all the way to Jader. From there you can make your way to Denerim or anywhere you’d like to go, but I recommend boarding another ship to Highever or Amaranthine, as I hear the lords there are sympathetic to elves. Though I personally would only believe it of Amaranthine, seeing as the Hero of Ferelden rules there and she’s an elf.”

“But...we have no money to pay for anything,” Ellina said in a trembling voice. Her whole body was shook and her lover wrapped his arm around her.

“Oh, no worries there,” Aidrian smirked, motioning Josette forward. The petite human stepped forward and held two pouches for them to take. “Our dearly departed lord Arsenault has been so generous as to pay all your expenses. Passage on the boat I mentioned has already been covered. The rest we leave for you.”

The two elves looked bewildered as they reached out and took the money. “Thank you,” Dolin said, his voice breaking. He swallowed and smiled, looking at his fiancée and taking her hand before turning back to Aidrian and her companions.

“You said you were friends,” Ellina said with a grateful smile. “You’re Friends of Red Jenny aren’t you?”

“Indeed we are,” said Searlas, clamping an arm playfully around Aidrian’s shoulder. “And I will escort you to your ship, my friends, which we should make for now. Wouldn’t want to miss it, would we?”

“No,” agreed Dolan quickly. “Let’s get out here, the sooner we can leave this place behind the better. Thank you so much for saving us! We really can’t say it enough.”

Ellina threw her arms around Aidrian’s neck, hugging her tight before doing the same to Josette. Aidrian was pleased to see that abuse at the hands of humans had not planted hatred in Ellina’s heart towards them. Having human’s in the rescue party probably helped a great deal. Ellina blew kisses at the others, calling her thanks, as her fiancé took her by the hand and pulled her to follow Searlas out of the alley.

Once they were gone, Naurice looked to his companions. “Anyone else need healing?” he asked.

They all shook their heads. “That arrogant piece of dirt was so cocky that he didn’t even have much security about his estate. It was an easy in and out,” Aidrian scoffed. She looked around at her friends with a proud smile. “Well done, Jennies. Let’s head to The Drunken Sailor, drinks are on me.”

The Drunken Sailor was their favourite tavern in the slums of the city, down by the docks. The Red Jennies walked through the darkened streets, no longer needing to keep to the shadows. They laughed and divided up the remainder of the loot that was taken from Arsenault’s estate.

They called to the barkeep in greeting as they entered and made their way to their favourite table. Searlas joined them shortly after their arrival, having delivered the rescued elves safely to their ship and watching it depart. As the group laughed and drank, Aidrian looked with affection upon her friends with great affection.

Searlas was a tall and slender human man, with shaggy red hair, brown eyes, long nose, freckles, and a short goatee around his mouth and chin. His slender build disguised his powerful strength, despite the fact that he was very muscular, and he could move with grace and stealth. He was born and raised in Val Royeaux and had a jovial spirit, jesting and laughing whenever he got the chance. And he had a kind, gentle heart, and Aidrian loved him like the brother she never had.

Della sat beside him, his arm around her. The two lovers were so dissimilar it was humorous. Originally from Ghislain, Della was usually serious and broody. As a child she worked as a servant in a noble household with her family. Despite being considered less than lower-class, elves were seen as beautiful and exotic to many humans due to their slender builds and almond shaped eyes. The daughter of the noble family grew jealous of Della’s appealing looks. One day, she lured Della to the kitchens and threw scalding water on her, burning her cheek, her jaw, and her neck. The noble family would not spend the money on a healer for a servant, and Della’s family could not afford it. She barely survived the infection, but she fought and pulled through. The nobles forbade her to work for them, hideous as her scars were, so her whole family left their employ. The cruelty of that noble family left scars upon Della’s heart as well as her skin. She wore her blonde hair down when not on a job, in attempt to conceal some of the ragged, puffy scars. Her violet eyes were keen and wary, and she had a lovely smile when she chose to wear it. Searlas’ love had worked wonders to heal her heart and she was more open and happier than she was before they began their romance. It made Aidrian’s heart sing for their felicity.

Naurice, a human mage, was hitting heavily on the new barmaid. He had a handsome face, youthful, despite the flecks of white starting to appear in his black hair and neatly trimmed beard and the laugh-lines adorning the corners of his deep blue eyes. He was an apostate mage, though he used his magic mostly for healing, carrying a staff rarely, as he did not often participate in combat. Originally from a Circle in Montsimmard, he escaped during a transfer to Val Firmin when their travelling party was attacked by a band of carta thieves. The box carrying the mage’s phylacteries was smashed in the fight, breaking the vials within. There were four mages in that transfer. Two of the mages remained to fight with the templars. Naurice and the other mage fled into the surrounding woods. He heard the Templars managed to catch the other mage and made him Tranquil. They pursued Naurice for a year but, because they could not track him with out his phylactery, they eventually gave up.

And then there was Josette, a petite human, sitting very close at Aidrian’s side, leg pressed against hers and hand on Aidrian’s thigh. Josette, like Searlas, was also a native of Val Royeaux. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face, lovely skin, long brown wavy hair, elegantly pointed nose, light blue eyes, and a charming smile. Daughter of a merchant, she travelled a lot when she was young, never staying in one place very long. Her parents insisted that she and her siblings learn to fight to protect themselves and each other. They were never wealthy and Josette grew up knowing the trials of the common people. One of her brothers was cheated out of his merchandise by a noble and when he tried to find justice he was found murdered in an alley. It was shortly there-after that she joined Red Jenny.

Josette and Aidrian were always flirting, but though their attraction was mutual, resulting in the occasional tumble, there was nothing more than a strong friendship between them. After a few drinks Aidrian began to bid her friends goodnight.

Josette moved her hand to Aidrian’s inner thigh, leaning in and brushing Aidrian’s sensitive ear with her lips. “What if I go with you?” she purred, sending a shiver of pleasure down Aidrian’s spine. “I thought maybe we could help each other relax.”

Aidrian smiled as her eyes travelled briefly down to Josette’s full breasts, which were partly exposed thanks to Josette’s low-cut leather armour, before returning appreciatively to the woman’s eyes. “Mmmm...though it’s so _very_ tempting, Peach,” Aidrian said, using her nick-name for her friend, “I’m just...not in the mood for company tonight.” She leaned forward and kissed Josette’s full lips anyway, winking as she stood up.

Aidrian made her way home, a small apartment that she rented above a warehouse by the docks. She had once saved the owner of the warehouse from a group of some noble’s thugs. In his gratitude, he gave her a steep discount on the rent. The apartment was a small, consisting of a large room, with her bed and other furniture, and two small rooms that she used as a bathing room and storage room.

She started a fire and boiled pots of water until she had enough to fill her small tub. As she relaxed, she let her mind go where it seemed determined to go, where she had tried to prevent it from going earlier. After all, it had happened about this time, 27 years ago, give or take a day. She closed her eyes...

 **_A movement wakes her, someone shaking her shoulder. Her mother hovered over her and her sisters as they lay in their bed. She has a welt on her cheek and scratch on her neck._ ** _**“Quickly, girls,” she whispers, grabbing a sack and stuffing clothes in it and what food was in the room. “There is no time. Your father is dead and we need to flee. Not a sound now.” She ushers them out the door, not even letting them change from their nightwear.**_

**_They can hear shouts from the halls nearby but are too afraid to make sense of them, apart from pieces._ **

**_“Find her!”_ **

**_“Check the servant’s quarters.”_ **

**_“Get a healer here now!”_ **

**_Their mother guides them down one hall after another, pausing here and there to listen to footfalls. They shiver with fright, too afraid to make a sound, terrified that at any moment they would be caught._ **

**_Then, another servant, a human man, motions them into a room. He shuts and locks the door, then leads them to an open window. He lowers their mother down first, then each of the girls. She thanks him and blesses him to the Maker, before she turns and leads them into the woods._ **

**_He never did say a word._ **

**_They run for what seems like hours, the baying of the lord’s hounds in the distance. They keep running until they can no longer continue, nor hear the sounds of pursuit. The girls shiver with cold, exhaustion and fear. Mother finally lets them put on their clothes. She starts a fire using their night clothes for fuel. They eat a little of the food that mother had grabbed. Then the girls fall asleep by the fire, finally warm and so very tired._ **

**_When they wake, they find their mother weeping. She finally explains that the lord’s eldest son had attacked her and their father had tried to protect her. Father had hurt the lord’s son badly, but not without being mortally wounded in return. The lord’s son shouted to their mother that he would make sure that everyone thought that she and father had attacked him and they would all be killed._ **

**_They continue on in their flight for freedom. The lord pursues them from town to town along the Waking Sea, for months; they barely kept ahead of him. Until one night, not far from Val Royeaux, he catches up with them at last. They flee into the night from the small village they were staying in. He chases them with his men and his hounds. Along the banks of the river they find a skiff tied to a tree. Their mother lifts each of them in the boat, kissing them each in turn and telling them she loves them. She places their small sack of food in with them, before she unties the boat and pushes it away from the shore...and away from her. The girls watch in wide-eyed, silent terror as their mother flees into the woods. The baying of the hounds grows louder, until the bays become growls and snarls that echoes through the night, mingled briefly with a piercing scream._ **

**_The scream is cut off quickly, leaving the girls floating in horrified silence, tears stream down their faces. Eventually, they drift off to sleep. When they wake, they can see the bright rays of the sun shining through the wood of a dock. Two elven men stand looking at them. The girls are terrified, but the men are kind. They tell the sisters that they are in Val Royeaux. They are taken to the alienage orphanage but are able to stay together._ **

Aidrian sighed and opened her eyes. She hadn’t understood it then, but it wasn’t long before she learned the ways of the world and realized what exactly had happened that night. Their family lived in the Free Marches. Their parents had obtained employment in the estate of a noble lord. They lived at the estate in the servant’s quarters. They had lived there a couple years and hadn’t really had much trouble until the lord’s oldest son, then in his late-teens, had begun to take a liking to their mother.

Aidrian remembered how he had begun to be affectionate with her mother, touching her, and saying things to her, and how mother hadn’t liked it. That night he had attacked her, he most likely trying to force himself on her. Her father, knowing of the son’s interest in her mother, had probably not been far when the attack occurred. He had tried to save their mother and been killed in the process. Mother had said the lord’s son had been badly injured, but they had no way to know if he’d survived or not. He must have survived long enough to implicate their mother. Thankfully, the lord had not pursued Aidrian and her sisters, probably satisfied once their mother was dead. She had been eight years old; her sisters were nine and eleven.

Aidrian finished bathing and stepped out of the tub, drying herself with a rough towel. She stretched her body and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She never gave much thought to her looks, but she paused now to study her reflection. She was slender, as were most elves, but well-toned and strong. She wasn’t beautiful, though she might be considered attractive enough to some, her features being more masculine than feminine. She had a round face, small mouth and nose, deep green eyes, with short, shaggy dark-blonde hair. She frowned at her reflection and lifted a hand to trace the scar that began near the centre of her forehead, above her right brow, running through it and across her right cheekbone. She had been lucky that she hadn’t lost her eye. That fight had been a learning experience. She no longer drank heavily after that. Other scars, big and small, decorated her body as well, earned from years of fighting the good fight.

She paused to look out the window at the sea before getting into bed. She thought of the two elves she’d helped that night. She said a prayer to the Maker that He’d keep them safe until they could find a peaceful situation. She wasn’t a strongly religious person, often questioning where the Maker was while people suffered. But she did believe in the Maker, and that he loved all people regardless of race and fortune, and once in a while she would drop a prayer in hopes that he’d hear.

But she was there, alive in the world, and she could hear and would continue to do all that she could to protect the common people from the disgusting nobles who would destroy their lives with out even a thought spared. And at the age of thirty-five, she felt she could go to bed feeling satisfied that she was making a difference in the world around her.


	2. Julienne

The new mistress of - what had previously been - the Arsenault estate stood in the grand foyer looking around at the gilded moulding adorning the walls and ceiling, and the ornate, curving staircase that lead up to the second floor. She shook her head. Such a waste, and far too refined for her taste. But she supposed it was lovely to some people. A group of children made up of elves, humans, and one dwarf, all varying in age from seven to seventeen, trickled through the door behind her and stood gazing about in curiosity and awe.

The youngest, a little elven girl, stood with wide eyes as she took in the grandeur. “Is this where we will live now, Julienne?” she asked with wonder.

Julienne Jordanius looked down at the girl and smiled, her heart swelling with affection. “Yes, sweetheart, this is where we will live.” She stroked the girl’s hair before reaching down and taking the girl’s bag. Julienne turned and addressed the entire group. “Put your things down everyone, we’ll sort it out later. I hear there’s a beautiful garden. Why don’t you go and see?”

With a chorus of excited agreement, bags and boxes were abandoned and the group hurried down the hall. The elven girl giggled and threw her arms around Julienne’s waist before following the others. The noise of the excited group became even louder as they greeted someone enthusiastically, and a man’s laughter added to the chaos. The owner of the voice came around the corner of the hall and walked toward Julienne, his arms wide and his smile joyful.

“Well, the children seem very excited,” he chuckled, kissing her soundly and wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so happy to see you, love. I’ve missed you.”

Julienne returned her husband’s embrace and rested her head upon his chest. “I missed you too,” she sighed. “We are all excited, Dimitri.”

“Oh? You don’t seem very excited,” he said, pulling her back so he could look at her face. “What is it, my dear?”

“I am excited, really,” she replied, giving him a little smile. “It’s just that this estate, or rather the people who owned it in the past, have a terrible history.”

“We will change the history of this place starting now,” Dimitri replied. “You’ll be happy to know I ordered new furniture for most of the rooms...especially for the master suite.”

“Oh, thank the Maker you thought of that,” Julienne said, both relieved and grateful. “After what we heard the last owner was like, I would not want to sleep in the same bed as he did.”

“You’ve had a long journey. Why don’t you take your things up to the bedroom and get settled in?” Dimitri said, kissing her forehead. Julienne breathed a weary sigh. “I’ll help the children find rooms and unpack. We have a few hours for you to rest before our dinner guests arrive.”

Julienne groaned, bumping her head against her husband’s chest and causing him to chuckle. “It couldn’t have waited one more day?”

“Well, they’re all _so_ excited to meet you, my love,” he jested.

“Oh, I’m _sure_ ,” she grumbled sarcastically. “Do I have to put on a gown?”

“No,” he replied, gently reaching up and stroking her cheek. “I want them to meet _you_ , who you are, no pretence.”

Julienne smiled and gave him a quick kiss to say thank you, before she picked up her bags and made her way to their room. As she unpacked she thought over their current situation. Dimitri had inherited the estate from a cousin, three or four times removed, because of lack of heirs and no one wanting the property after what had happened to the previous owner. It also came with the title of Baron and Baroness, and for some reason the title made her cringe.

Dimitri Jordanius was from the Free Marches and he had inherited his family’s estate and fortune when his father died. His mother, originally from Orlais, did not want the responsibility of managing the estate and left to live with Dimitri’s sister and her family. It was through his mother’s family that he was connected to the Arsenault family. Julienne was born to a Fereldan Bann and an Orlesian lady. Julienne inherited the title and fortune when her father died, her mother having passed away years before. The new Orlesian estate was larger and it came with another income to be included with their other, smaller estates. This meant that they could provide more for the children, as well as take in more of them.

Julienne and Dimitri took in poor children from slums, regardless of race, hiring them as servants in order to provide them with a living wage, but also loving them as if they were their own. The children were educated and taught various skills so that they could one day go out on their own and hopefully make a decent living. Dimitri also assisted them in finding a good situation when they left. The two of them had already been able to help several youngsters while living at their estates in Ferelden and the Free Marches. Some of the children came from desperate or dangerous situations, but Dimitri and Julienne had joined mercenary groups in their rebellious teenage years and were able to use their experience and training – and their connections - to free the children.

Val Royeaux was going to be a bigger challenge for their campaign for the better treatment of the lesser classes. Dimitri had arrived two months earlier to settle matters before Julienne and some of the children joined him. He had written to her about blood stains on the floor and some of the evidence he’d found hidden in the estate that showed what a horrible man his cousin had been despite whatever face he wore for the outside world. He fired all the guards and carefully interviewed and hired new ones to add to the security he had brought with him. Some of the guards that had come with him from the estate in the Free Marches were elves and surface dwarves. New guards that were hired had to be comfortable working with the other races and treat them equally.

Dimitri also wrote to Julienne of the mixed reactions he was getting from the nobility that he’d met so far. Some were in agreement, or pretended to be, that servants should be treated and paid respectfully, and that the poor should be pitied and helped instead of beaten down and abused. Others scoffed and said that the lesser classes were “lesser” for a reason, and there was no reason to treat them better unless they somehow earned it, which was impossible. Those nobles didn’t believe in wasting their time and money on those that they felt were beneath them.

Her husband forewarned her that there would be mixed opinions amongst the guests attending dinner that night. Julienne hated politics but, as a noble, she was forced to play them. She often left most of the talking to Dimitri because her temper could sometimes get the better of her. And she had very little patience for smooth talking, spoiled, ignorant people. Let them judge. Let them talk. She would not back down from what she believed was right.

Julienne finished organizing her things and went to see how everyone else was getting settled. It gave her heart joy to watch the excited and happy faces of the children as they showed her their new rooms and how they were organizing them. There were two, sometimes three, in a room but that didn’t bother them at all. The Jordanius’ had mature and experienced staff on hand as well, including a governess to help mind and teach the children, but like the guards, all staff were required to be able to work with all races.

Julienne returned to her room to bathe and prepare herself mentally and emotionally for the ‘battle’ that would soon begin with the arrival of their guests. She dressed in her finest silk shirt and leather trousers made from the skin of a Great Bear, which was rare and highly prized by the noblility. She had killed the bear herself and _loved_ the looks she received when she told people this. She added a richly embroidered jacket and drake-skin boots. She let her long, chestnut hair hang gently about her shoulders, contrasting nicely against the pale skin of her face and neck. The only jewellery she wore was a simple pendant with matching stud earrings, and her wedding ring. This was as extravagantly as she liked to dress, no more, no less. On the rare occasion that she should attend a ball for royalty, she would wear a gown and pin her hair up. But that was very rare indeed.

Julienne checked herself in the mirror. She had an almost heart shaped, oval face, round nose, and lips that were always ready to pull into an easy smile. What most people complimented her on were her eyes, though she never found them extraordinary. They were cerulean with deep blue around the edges. She was average in height, about 5’6 tall, slender in frame but well-toned as she trained and exercised daily. She never thought much of her looks at all, not considering herself very beautiful, though she was often told she was.

She did not care for make-up, feeling that there was no need to paint a false face on her own. What people saw was what they got. Take it or leave it. This was the main reason she detested the Orlesian custom of wearing masks, which, unfortunately, she was now forced to do. The mask that Dimitri had purchased for her was decorated elegantly with out being gaudy, yet she still resented it as she placed it on her face.

Satisfied with her appearance, despite the mask, Julienne made her way to the parlour. Dimitri was already waiting for her and it wasn’t long before the first guests arrived. The parlour began to fill and Julienne plastered on a smile, inwardly rolling her eyes at a few of the more ridiculous, flouncy nobles. It bothered her greatly that she could not see their faces clearly due to the masks they wore. One could read a lot from people’s expression and facial movements. Perhaps that was the whole purpose for the wearing of masks, considering the “Great Game” that Orlesians constantly played.

Soon, all of the guests had arrived and the party moved to the dining room for the evening meal. It was a lot of work to keep up with all the names of the nobles in attendance, as well as the ones floating about in conversation. Not to mention the names of places and events and other such things important to the society here. Julienne found it all more than a little draining.

When the meal was over, the party moved back to the parlour. It was then that the conversations slowly became focused on the Jordanius’ particular beliefs on the proper treatment of the lower classes. Just as Dimitri had told her, there were some who agreed, though, and treated their servants well as long as they did their jobs, whether human or elf. Indeed, in some homes a well trained, hard working servant was highly prized. There were others who questioned and scoffed at such soft hearted notions, not admitting to being abusive, but arguing that the lower classes didn’t deserve any particular treatment or even that they were worth noticing.

One particularly arrogant man, Comte Granier, was especially tactless in his opposing opinions, and his tongue further loosened from having greedily drunk a great deal of wine at dinner. “The Chantry should have wiped out the elves instead of bringing them to infest our cities. I think-”

“ _All_ are the Maker’s children, your Lordship,” Dimitri said smoothly and steadily holding the Comte’s gaze, “We took the elves from their home in the Dales in order to teach them about the Maker and civilize them, and then forced them to live in squalor, no better than slaves.”

“You’re right,” slurred Granier, sneering in disgust, “and they should _be_ slaves. Then we could control them better and wouldn’t have to pay them; waste our money on worthless creatures.”

Julienne’s temper flared at his words; instantly, she was seeing red. She opened her mouth to breath fire upon the ignorant, arrogant man, when she felt Dimitri close his hand around hers, steadying her. She forced herself to breathe instead, allowing Dimitri to respond. She always admired how cool headed he was in these situations. It took a lot to get under his skin but if one managed it then they’d better be prepared for his retaliation.

“That’s an interesting point of view, Comte Granier,” Dimitri replied, brows constricting. “It sounds very Tevinter. Perhaps we should close the Circles and allow the mages to live freely as well?”

"Nothing of the kind!” Granier’s voice began to rise and his face had turned purple at being compared to Tevinter. “Quite the opposite. The Templars should slaughter the mages and rid us all of their dangerous magic once and for all. If I’m not mistaken, it is _you_ who support mage freedom.”

“There is nothing in the Chant of Light that says the magic is a curse,” Julienne spoke now, having gained control of her temper. “It speaks only about the evil of those who would abuse it. ‘Magic exists to serve man’...it is a gift. Those born with it are not monsters, they are people who have wants and needs the same as anyone else. To strip them of the simple comfort of family and relationships with the outside world, caging them away and denying them any freedom, isn’t right. Mages should be guarded, taught, and, yes, monitored, but not treated like slaves or animals.”

"So says your Fereldan Dog-King,” the Comte snarled, hatred in his eyes. It was no secret that she was a Fereldan Bann. She was not the least bit ashamed of that fact. “It doesn’t surprise me to hear you repeat such uncivilized and uneducated drivel. It’s too bad we weren’t able to wipe the barbaric Ferelden out of existence when we had the chance.”

“You seem to want a lot of people dead, Comte Granier,” Julienne said, her tone cool. “I wonder...who is the dangerous one really? Who _really_ is uncivilized and barbaric when that seems to be your answer to everything?”“How dare you talk to me in such a way, you Fereldan _bitch_!” Granier spat, his face bright red.

“Enough, Comte!” Dimitri growled, his posture becoming aggressive, intimidating, “You have insulted my wife. Twice. I would demand satisfaction, except that there is no honour in duelling a man who is drunk.”

“Then I shall have my son, Jeraude, stand in my place,” Granier smirked, gesturing to the larger man beside him. “Do your best, Baron; we are not afraid of you.”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure than defending my wife’s honour,” Dimitri assured them coolly. “But Julienne is more than capable of defending herself. Isn’t that right, my dear?” Dimitri grinned at her with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Indeed, it is,” Julienne replied with a frown at Jeraude Granier. “But I don’t believe one should have to die for the arrogant belligerence of a parent.”

“I assure you, Baroness, that I share my father’s views,” sneered Jeraude, a hateful gleam in his eye. “I am only too pleased to stand in his place, even if I must fight a _woman_.”

“Well, you don’t hear me complaining,” Julienne shrugged. She turned to exit the room before he could respond, calling over her shoulder. “I will get my weapons and meet you in the yard!”

She retrieved her daggers from her room and joined the crowd that had gathered outside. Jeraude was taking practice swings with a fancy looking broadsword. Julienne smiled to herself. He looked like he had been well trained and he had the build to handle such a weapon effectively. But he was displaying his weakness as he showed off his skills while he “practiced”. He was arrogant and over-confident. He would not live to regret it.

Julienne pushed down a surge of regret at such a waste of life, of potential. She focused her mind to picture Jeraude as the embodiment of all nobles, like Comte Granier, who held such disregard for the rest of the world. Power abused, people used, lives destroyed...it was wrong and it needed to stop.

She faced Jeraude on the other side of the clearing made by the spectators, twirling her daggers in her hands and keeping her body relaxed. He faced her and raised his sword before him. They began to circle around, keeping to opposite sides of the courtyard.

Jeraude attacked first, swinging at her in a high arc aimed for her head. But Julienne was fast, ducking to the side and deflecting the tip of his sword. She needed to wait patiently, watch for the opening in his defence and get close enough to strike. He swung at her again and she rolled out of the way, getting to her feet instantly only to roll backward again as he reversed his swing. This time, after his blade had passed over her head, she bolted toward him, slashing him in the side with her dagger before moving out of his range.

“Fitting that you should roll around on the ground like a bitch in heat!” Jeraude spat, grasping his side as blood oozed through his fingers.

“You can hurl insults all you want,” Julienne smirked, pointing at his side. “I’m not the one who is bleeding.”

Jeraude roared and attacked again. Julienne dodged and darted in to strike. But he was somewhat prepared for her this time, choosing to release his blade with one hand and strike her in the face instead of swinging back with his sword. The force of the blow knocked Julienne down and white flashed briefly across her vision, but she was getting to her feet and focused on him with-in the second it took for him to regain his grip on his weapon and attack once more.

He lunged at her, his sword raised high above his head, pointed toward her spot on the ground. She pushed up with all the strength in her legs, sliding up against his body and driving one of her daggers into his throat. He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock, a sickly gurgling sound coming from his throat, followed by a fount of blood. Julienne pulled out her dagger and took a few steps away to watch as Jeraude fell to the ground.

“ _Mon fils_!” cried Comte Granier, rushing forward and kneeling down by the dead body of his son. His _eldest_ son if Julienne recalled correctly. His glare was fury incarnate when his eyes snapped up to Julienne. “You’ll pay for this, bitch!”

“We gave you both the chance to back out.” Julienne shook her head with pity in her eyes.

“I’ll see you all _burn_!” Granier shrieked, his gaze darting between Julienne and Dimitri. “You and all the foul creatures you harbour in your home!”

“Guards, remove Comte Granier from our property,” Dimitri called out. The guards came forward to secure the Comte and escort him, and the body of his son, to the gates. Julienne watched him go with a mixture of satisfaction...and sympathy. She never enjoyed killing, even when it was necessary to end the lives of those so full of hatred and malice.

“Are you all right, Julienne?” Dimitri cupped her face and carefully examined the welt on her cheek from the blow Jeraude had struck.

“Yes, Dimitri,” Julienne assured him, placing a hand over his. “But I think the party has gone on long enough.”

“I agree,” Dimitri nodded before turning to address the guests. “Well, my friends, it has been an exciting evening.” He paused as most of the people chuckled. Julienne knew that Dimitri was making a jest to lighten the mood but it disturbed her to know that many of their society would only see the events of the night as entertainment instead of the death of a young man. “Julienne and I thank you most gratefully for the honour of having you as our guests tonight. But now, I believe it is time to bid you good night!”

As Dimitri and Julienne stood at the doors to their home and bid their guests good night, once again, Julienne was pleased by the amount of approval and encouragement that she received from many of the nobles. Not all were supportive, however, there were some who said their farewells curtly and looked not at all pleased.

Once all their guests were gone and she had retired to her room and dressed for bed, she found herself standing on the balcony, staring off into the night, dreaming of her past and what made her see the world differently from most other nobles.

Julienne was born to an Orlesian lady and a Fereldan Bann. Her grandparents on her mother’s side, Lord and Lady Renaud, were nobles of low rank and always looked for ways to climb the social ladder. Their hope was to marry their children to other families of greater wealth and importance. Their son was their golden child, who thought and acted as they did. But Julienne’s mother, Louise, was different. She had fallen in love with a servant; even worse, an elf. They were going to run away together but he was found murdered in an alley the night they had planned to leave. The guards said it was bandits but Julienne’s mother always suspected her family’s involvement.

When it was discovered that Louise was with child, she was shut away from society until they could find someone willing to marry her regardless of the bastard child that she refused to give up. Julienne’s father, Barclay Keanley, was a Fereldan Bann of the West Hill Bannorn, not far from the Orlesian border. He had seen Louise once while visiting the area and accepted the dowry offered for marrying her.

Louise gave birth to a son the week before she was to be wed. She named him Ewen, after his elven father, and always said that he had his father’s brilliant green eyes. Barclay and Lousie were married and in time, they grew to truly love one another. But despite being a fairly good man, Barclay would not adopt Ewen, and could not bring himself to love him as a son. Perhaps, it was jealousy of the love that her mother had for Ewen’s father, and Ewen being the memory of that love. Or perhaps it was simply that he was part elven. No one knew except Julienne’s father who refused to talk about it. Her father was not unkind, however, and ensured that Ewen was treated well, and received an education and learned to defend himself.

Julienne was born five years after her parents were wed. She and her brother loved each other deeply. He was her brother, she never saw him as only half. It upset her that he should be treated any differently by people because of his father’s race. Ewen trained Julienne to fight with weapons in secret because her father forbid that she learn, saying that ladies did not need to know such things.

Her mother was her example and moral compass, and she learned to see the value in people for their character and not judge by race or social rank. Her mother taught her that the nobility had a responsibility to those less fortunate, to help and care for people in need. Julienne loved her parents both very much but she held her mother in particular esteem and adoration.

Julienne was sixteen when her mother died due to illness, and it left them all shattered. Unable to cope with the loss of his beloved wife, Julienne’s father could no longer bear to have Ewen around. He informed Ewen that it was time for him to leave, to seek his future elsewhere. He offered to assist Ewen by helping him find a position in the King’s army, as a Chanter for the Chantry, or as a servant or hired hand. Ewen asked to be knighted and given one of the landholdings belonging to Julienne’s father. Bann Keanley refused. Furious, Ewen avowed that he would find his way on his own, with out any help from the Bann. He bid a tearful farewell to Julienne and left. Julienne pleaded with her father to reconsider but he stubbornly would not relent. Try as she might, she could not discover where her brother had gone.

After a month with no word, she became angry with her father and declared that she would have none of the inheritance, refusing to live as one of the nobility if this was what it meant to be a noble. She ran away from home and tried to search for her brother. Unable to support herself on her own, she joined a mercenary group in Denerim. It was a dangerous living but she loved it and the freedom it gave her. For the first time, no one cared about her social status. They only cared about what she could _do_. Once in a while she would switch mercenary groups and she travelled from place to place.

It was during this time that she met Dimitri, who also was rebelling against his future as a noble. Julienne was taken by Dimitri’s roguish charms and his sense of humour. Their instant connection was powerful and fiery. Their love-making was hot and spontaneous, often slipping away after a job while their adrenaline was high. Julienne felt that Dimitri completed her and that there could never be anyone else for her but him.

Eventually, rough living and the situation of so many people that they met on the streets opened their eyes to how childish and irresponsible it had been to simply run away from home. They also became aware that not everyone that their mercenary bands attacked were people who deserved it. They soon found that the act of killing to be unpleasant and distasteful. After three years of mercenary life, they decided it was time to return home and attempt to change the world in their own way. Dimitri proposed marriage to Julienne and swore to come for her when matters were settled with his family. She accepted. They promised to be wed in one year.

Bann Keanley was overjoyed when his daughter returned home. He had never stopped searching for her. He regretted his stubbornness and his unfair treatment of Ewen. He had tried to locate the young man as well, but had no success. Julienne forgave her father and the two of them continued to search for Ewen together. She began to learn how to manage their estate and all the responsibilities of being a Bann. Julienne and Dimitri wrote to each other faithfully.

Not long before the wedding was to take place, Dimitri’s father was killed in a hunting accident and Dimitri inherited his title and estate. Dimitri was grieved at his father’s passing and that his father would never get to meet Julienne, he was sure they would have liked each other very much. Once the funeral was held, and some time passed to grieve, the wedding plans continued.

The wedding was held at the Jordanius estate, near Hasmal, in the Free Marches. It was kept small, mainly family, but it was lovely and Julienne was happier than she’d ever been. The only shadow cast on her day was the absence of her mother and brother. Once the wedding was over, the couple settled into the Jordanius home, and began their campaign to help the less fortunate. After trying for three years to conceive, Julienne and Dimitri decided to begin taking in orphaned children instead.

Julienne’s father was tainted during Blight and, soon after, died. Julienne and Dimitri lived at the Ferelan estate for a while, helping people affected by the Blight, particularly children who were orphaned. It was during this time that Ewen returned. Julienne was overjoyed to have her brother back. She explained to him her father’s regret and Ewen was grieved by his passing. Ewen had fought for Bann Teagan during the Blight and received the knighthood he wanted. Julienne was proud of her brother and thrilled that she could do even better for him by granting him the title of ‘Lord’ and the property of one of the holdings under their Bannship. When Julienne was away from Ferelden, Ewen acted on her behalf, standing in as Bann.

As Julienne stood on her balcony, she wondered what her mother would think of all that she had accomplished and where she was now in her life. Even at age of twenty-five, she still longed for her mother, for the warmth of her arms, for the comfort and security she provided. She liked to believe her mother would be proud of the lives she and Dimitri were able to save and people they had helped. What would her mother advise for this new situation? Orlais was going to be their biggest challenge yet, and, apparently, the most dangerous. She had only been there one day and already killed someone. She sent a prayer to Andraste for forgiveness and guidance.

Dimitri came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck. “Coming to bed, love?”

“Yes,” Julienne sighed as she turned, walking into their room, Dimitri leading her by the hand. “Let’s hope tomorrow will be more peaceful. I’d like to get settled in before the body count gets too high.”

Dimitri chuckled as he blew out the candle by the bed. It wasn’t long before he was asleep, but Julienne lay awake for some time. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the satisfaction of all that they had accomplished so far, the moments of peace and contentedness that had been theirs through most of the last year, was the calm before the storm, and that her world was about to be shaken.


End file.
